


"Want a little help with that?"

by slof



Series: Osayachi Drabbles [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atsumu is an asshole ofc, Bakery AU, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Osamu dumb, pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slof/pseuds/slof
Summary: Hitoka isn't the best at cake decorating
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yachi Hitoka
Series: Osayachi Drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874737
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	"Want a little help with that?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justwritingforfun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwritingforfun/gifts).



> ROBYBYHYBYY SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG AND IM SOSRYR IT'S RUSHED I LVOE YOU

Hitoka was ‘okay’ at her job. It wasn’t as if she had all the confidence in the world, but she had enough to get her through the work days. There was something about her results that always made her frown, something was always off, something about it always made her feel unaccomplished.

Baking was supposed to be easy, wasn’t it? Sure if baking counted as making a simple cake for your best friend while you’re both fifteen and eating it straight from the baking pan with spoons in the middle of the living room floor. 

She was decorating cakes after cakes, switching between colors and piping bags, watching the many shades seem to fade together as she spun the cake on the swivel plate. It made her a little dizzy, though she never let that stop her at all.

Deep down, Hitoka loved her job. She loved the faces of the little kids that would come into the bakery and stare at the cakes through the glass, begging their parents for one _(‘Momma, momma! Can I please get that one?!’)_. It always lifted her heart. 

Though working on something as big as she had to work on today was a little bit difficult. It was stressful, and Hitoka felt trapped under a rock. 

  
  


The cake decorator stared at the multi-leveled cake, looking it up and down at how it looked like an upside-down funnel. She held the piping bag filled with white frosting in her hand with her eyes glued on the dessert.

The cake.

The wedding cake.

  
  


“Want a little help with that?”

Hitoka looked over quickly, almost dropping the bag of frosting to the floor.

“Osamu?”

Osamu walked into the kitchen and observed the cake. There was a paper sitting on the counter nearby of all the requirements the couple wanted the cake to have, and he found it, picked it up, and looked over it, Hitoka stayed quiet letting him do whatever in God’s name he was doing.

Miya Osamu, one of the top tier people working at the bakery. He basically owned it, the old man who did own it seemed ready to pass it down to him considering he didn’t have a next of kin and Osamu was the next best thing to that. The young man did everything, organized everything, overlooked everything — Hitoka knew that if she had to do what he did, she’d lose her mind. Though Osamu was good at his job, keeping his cool, doing things his way, never seeming to get too overworked with everything. 

Hitoka always admired him. 

And here he was, asking Hitoka, _‘Want a little help with that?’_

That’s like Einstein asking if you wanted help with math.

Hitoka was swooning, and she felt like she could collapse right there in the kitchen, the heat from the ovens not helping her stay on her two feet.

“Um, yeah,” she said, throwing in a laugh that had a bit too much nervousness mixed in. “I’ve done cakes before, obviously, it’s just — I’m scared to mess up the first Wedding cake I’ve ever done.”

“Understandable,” Osamu said while setting down the paper. “Well, I’ll help ya.”

“Don’t you have — other things to be doing?” Hitoka asked with a quirked eyebrow, then her expression dropped to worry. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know? Like, like you’re so busy all the time, I wouldn’t think you’d have time to help someone like me do something like this?” Hitoka spoke quickly, and her hands reached down to her apron, clutching the front of it as she stared at the floor. 

_ ‘Oh, Hitoka, you really embarrassed yourself this time. Way to go! Maybe I should move away. Yes, far, far away where I would never have to see Miya Osamu’s beautiful, beautiful face again—‘ _

Osamu started laughing.

“There’s a million things I could be doin’ but I think I wanna help ya.”

“Why?”

Osamu shrugged. “Work can get kinda tedious, boring. Goin’ back to the basics seems fun.” Hitoka laughed. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just — this is ‘The Basics’.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Osamu quickly said, and his face went a little red which just made Hitoka laugh even more. She felt herself relax a little seeing that Osamu was a bit like herself when it came to nervousness and embarrassing yourself. He sighed at her laughing, and a small smile formed on his face. “Whateva. Let’s decorate.”

* * *

Hitoka and Osamu worked on the cake together. They surrounded the counter, one of them on each side. Osamu decorated to back of the cake, Hitoka did the same pattern on the front. The side of the bottom cake layer was filled with black swirls, the middle layer was done and covered in lace-like fondant that Hitoka had shaped out herself. 

  
  


“That looks nice,” Osamu complimented, glancing over her shoulder as she used the icing smoother to lightly press it into the frosting. Hitoka hummed, focused on the decorating as she stuck her tongue out, spinning the cake slowly on the turntable.

  
  


It was when they reached the top layer was when Hitoka frowned.

“What?” Osamu asked as he leaned over to look at the paper Hitoka stared down at. “What’s it?”

“I’ve never been good at making roses out of frosting,” she mumbled. The paper asked for flowers to cover all over the top cake layer. 

“I’ll help ya,” Osamu said, and he picked up an icing bag. He replaced the piping tip with a long, thin tip and picked up a flower nail — those metal tools you roll between your fingers that reminded Hitoka of spinning tops. 

Osamu handed them both to Hitoka who stared down at them in her hands. She really was bad at making the flowers — she was much better at coloring flowers straight onto the cake with what she liked to call ‘edible ink’.

He walked behind her, grabbing ahold of her hands. Hitoka felt herself freeze up, and if it weren’t for Osamu holding onto her hands, she would’ve dropped the icing bag and flower nail. 

“Spin while ya press onto the icin’ bag,” he said while moving her fingers for her. It was careful, light, his touch was so soft. “Think ‘bout it: ya can’t really mess up a flower. They’re all unique.”

Hitoka nodded, and Osamu slowly let go of her, backing up to watch her slowly layer the petals of the flower. 

He nodded. “Ya got it. Dunno what ya were so worried ‘bout,” he said with a smile. Hitoka felt herself smiling — there was something about being complimented by Osamu that made her feel much more confident about what she was doing. 

Osamu picked up his own tools and started making flowers.

So quickly.

Hitoka was in awe as she watched him make one in three seconds, pick it off the flower nail, and carefully set it on the top of the cake.

Osamu caught her stare and paused, then laughed.  “Ya okay there?” He asked.

“You’re amazing,” Hitoka mumbled. 

“Mhm thanks,” he said with a smile, maybe a slight tint of pink on his cheeks (Hitoka blamed that on the heat of the kitchen). “I try.”

* * *

The two bakers in the kitchen ended up making way too many flowers than they were supposed to. They got lost in the making, Osamu kept giving Hitoka endless tips to perfect the petals. Instead of setting them on the cake (considering there was no more room and they were finished), they set them on a baking sheet and kept going. The only reason they stopped was the twin’s brother.

“‘Samu!” Hitoka and Osamu separated, their sides had been pressed close together as they watched each other carefully making the flowers, Hitoka watching so she could pick up tips, Osamu watching so he could give out tips. “The hell are ya doin’?”

Osamu stood up straight and glared at his twin. “Whaddya mean? ‘M workin’.”

“Work ended three hours ago.”

Osamu looked at his watch.

“Oh.”

“And,” Atsumu said while turning to leave, “‘m sure yer wasting poor Yachi’s free time. Come on. Get cleaned up, idiot. We’re ‘posed to visit ma.” 

Atsumu left the kitchen, leaving the two in silence. That was until Osamu cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” Osamu muttered. “He’s a pain in the ass.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Hitoka said quickly. “I should’ve realized I was taking up your time.”

“No, ‘t’s fine. I had fun.” Osamu had a small smile on his face. He checked his watch again, and his smile dropped. “Shit. He’s right.” Osamu set down the piping bag that was still in his hands and moved to the sink. He quickly washed his hands. “Ya got — everythin’? Sorry to leave ya with a mess.”

“It’s fine, Osamu. I would’ve had to clean it by myself anyway. I got it! Don’t worry.”

Osamu smiled while patting his hands dry on his apron.

“Yer the best, ya know?” Hitoka’s face flustered red. “Wanna do this again—?”

“‘SAMU, COME ON!”

Osamu sighed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” Hitoka softly muttered. This was something she definitely wanted to do again. 

“See ya,” Osamu waved goodbye.

  
  


Hitoka stared at the mess they had made in the kitchen. A finished wedding cake she needed to put away for the wedding that was set for tomorrow, a baking sheet full of frosting flowers, a few empty bags of icing, messy tools. 

She thought back to how they started, Osamu standing behind her and guiding her hands. Her face flushed red, and she slapped her cheeks. This was no longer the ovens — the heat of the kitchen had died down from the propane stoves quite long ago.

The baker in training sighed and began to clean up the mess, starting with the very important cake. 

Part of her wanted another challenge just for an excuse to be helped by Miya Osamu again. 

_ “Yer the best, ya know?” _

"Why’d he have to say that?" Hitoka groaned, and she talked out loud to herself. "I feel like I’m this empty bag of icing." Hitoka picked up the bag and tossed it in the trash with a sigh. "What does that even mean? That doesn’t even make sense." She let out another sigh. 

“Ya like ‘im.” 

Hitoka turned quickly.

“I — I thought you had to leave to go to your mom’s.”

“Wanted to take a quick look at what ya guys were doin’,” Atsumu said as he walked in the room. He gave Hitoka a piece of paper, a grin on his face. “‘Samu’s got this competition tomorrow. Ya should ask ‘im ‘bout it ask — ‘bout goin’.”

“Text him? And ask him?” Hitoka scoffed. “You’re crazy.”

“‘M a Miya. Course I am. Just text ‘im tell in’ ‘im I told ya ‘bout it. I’ll take ‘im cursin’ me out.” Atsumu smiled and ran out of the kitchen. “Later, Yachi!”

* * *

Hitoka sat on the edge of her bed dressed in pajamas, a towel wrapped in her hair. She stared down at her phone, the phone number typed in with a message. 

_ ‘Hi! This is Yachi! Sorry if this is weird, but your brother gave me your phone number, and he told me you had some competition tomorrow? I’d love to see it, if that’s not weird or anything!!’ _

Hitoka took a deep breath and hit send.

It took a few minutes, and Hitoka was forever grateful he answered quickly or she swore her heart was going to explode.

**Osamu:** I’m gonna kill him

**Osamu:** yes I do 

**Osamu:** honestly I’d love for you to come

“Really?!” She said out loud, and she pulled her feet underneath herself. “Calm down, Hitoka,” she mumbled to herself.

**Hitoka:** I’ll be there then!!

**Osamu:** Can’t wait

**Osamu:** now excuse me I have to kick the shit out of Tsumu

  
  


Hitoka couldn’t wait either.

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter @mattsuhana


End file.
